When it comes to the wealth of scripture in our worship, it sometimes becomes an embarrassment of riches. The embarrassing part is all of us preachers scurrying around, trying to cover all the bases; that prophetic clarion call that we ignore at our peril; that key parable or proclamation of Jesus distilling the essence of the Gospel; that instruction of Paul to the Church on the basics of life in the Spirit (and in Christian community); Those hard, perplexing, even disturbing verses that a preacher's got to deal with eventually, if only so folks won't think he's been avoiding them. There's just way too to preach about.

So, it really helps when there is a thematic thread, some connective tissue, a form of dialogue between the various readings, even though written in different centuries and circumstances, on different subjects and for different purposes. All scripture is inspired and inhabited by God's Holy Spirit, and all scripture points in God's direction. So, it's not surprising that we should find these linkages. God's passion for justice runs through the history books of the Bible, through the Law and the prophets, through the gospels and pastoral letters. Then there is God the spurned lover - the stuff of prophecy, parables and psalms - God so sorely wounded by our faithlessness, our seduction by false gods and idols, our distance and disinterest . . .God so ardently seeking to take us back, over and over and over.. .

Fortunately, we seem to have just such a linkage this morning, between Deuteronomy and Luke. And in this linkage we'll find just the kind of important themes that should not go unremarked. Setting the scene for our passage from The Book of Deuteronomy, the people of Israel have come to the end of their wandering in the wilderness of Sinai. Soon, they will cross over Jordan and into the land of promise. But their time of wandering has been filled with muttering and complaining and ingratitude, seditious talk and rebellious acts. They have strained the bonds of affection to the breaking point many times, and (fortunately for them) God has used restraint. How can they enter the land to become a godly nation with this corruption, these infidelities unaddressed? So God calls for a renewal of the ancient covenant with Abraham. A covenant is, fundamentally, an agreement. If Israel will simply love God and have no other, then God will be a steadfast, abiding presence, a provider and protector.

Here we have Moses' great ultimatum to the Chosen people: They've had 40 years of wandering to decide if the God who led them out of bondage in Egypt, who brought water from the rock when they were thirsty and manna from heaven to eat, who appointed able leaders and gave them a moral law designed to produce the fruits of community, if this God is worthy of their allegiance. Now God calls them to CHOOSE! God says "Choose, you my people, choose how you will live. Will you love me and be true to me, forsaking all other idols, impulses, ideologies? Is yours a radical trust - are you willing to walk in my ways, the costly path laid out in my commandments to my servant Moses? Can you imagine living together in happiness and at peace - your personal holiness mirrored in the holiness of your family, your tribe, your nation? Choose the way that leads to me, the God of life and blessing, and that dream can come true. Chose the way that leads away from me and you will surely make for yourself an accursed path of death.

And then, we have this problematic passage in Luke's gospel. Jesus is speaking to a houseful of Pharisees, among the ruling class of Jewish religious establishment. And Jesus begins this very difficult teaching, saying "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple."

Whoa! Dude! That's pretty harsh . . . Yes, indeed it is. But we need to understand that here Jesus employs a technique that was quite common to rabbinic teaching - the use of hyperbole or extreme overstatement, to sharpen and drive home his point.

A parallel passage in Matthew's gospel helps us to understand Jesus' meaning, where he says "Whoever loves father and mother, son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me." Listen, believe me: Jesus does not want us to hate those who are dear to us. He wants us to love them with the best love we know how to give . . . and that love can only be ours to give when we love God above all else, even life itself, before all other gods, before all other desires, before all other relationships, no matter how important or precious.

Context is everything, and it is often hard to keep context in view when we chop up the Bible into digestible bites in our Sunday Lectionary. We need to understand that when Jesus says this harsh thing, it is a continuation of an ongoing confrontation with a group of people who were trying to discredit him, and failing that, trap him in some fatal error that would allow them to arrest him and have him killed. Talk about harsh . . .

This saying is, in fact, Jesus' commentary on a parable he had just spoken to those Pharisees, about a dinner party and about invited guests who could not be bothered to attend. They all had their excuses . . . one had to go inspect some real estate. Another had to try out a new team of oxen. Another had recently been married. And so the host sent out his servants to invite the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame to take the place of those indifferent ones who stayed away. It would not have been lost on the Pharisees that Jesus told this parable against them . . . that they were, in Jesus' eyes, giving priority to lesser things and neglecting the greater things. By their own choosing, they were in danger of forfeiting their place at the table of God. It was in this immediate context that he then turned to the large crowd that was watching and listening and said this harsh thing about hating hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself.

This passage, difficult as it is to hear, it is not primarily a teaching on family relationships. It is a teaching about the first commandment, "I am the Lord your God . . . you shall have no other gods before me." In Jesus day, the people of God had been wandering in another wilderness, a wilderness of religious rules and regulations, of form before substance, of piety without compassion. It is time for them to cross over another Jordan into another promised land, what Jesus called the Realm of God. But before they can cross over, they must be purged of their corruption and infidelity.

This is the link with Deuteronomy - it is another call to renew the covenant, to choose whether to serve the living God who heals on the Sabbath and welcomes the outcast and sinner, or to serve the external religious form of ritual practice and rigid, strictured life. It is a choice between the service that is "perfect freedom" and the servitude of slavery.

It is one thing to profess our love for Jesus and promise to follow him, as we do when we are baptized. It is another thing to be guided by that love into a way of life that involves sacrifice, that leads to the cross. Jesus advises us to count the cost of discipleship, like a king counting the cost of war. Are we really ready and willing to go all the way with God? Are we ready to take, either figuratively or literally (or both) Jesus' final words, ". . .none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions."

However you take that, can we agree that he is calling us to give up all that possesses us? Our need for the approval of others, even it if means breaking God's heart? Our resentments and anxieties that keep us from living out God's vision of the beloved community? Our fears which prevent us from reaching out to the stranger, and praying for our enemy? What real or metaphorical field or ox or family obligation keeps you and me from joining Jesus at the dinner party?

In the Bible, certain chapters of certain books tell of certain watershed moments in salvation history, where God draws close to a wayward people and says "It's time once again to choose. Come and renew the covenant with me. Be my people and I will be your God." These are the ones that have been recorded. But I think there are many that are never recorded, except in the archives of God's grateful heart. They are no less watersheds because the work themselves out in the minutiae of everyday life, those everyday decisions to come to the banquet or stay away, to take refuge in the outward form of religion and shy away from the mystical union. God says to us continually, "This day, this hour, this moment, I set before you life and death . . .blessing and curse." Here and now, in every situation, we have another opportunity to renew the covenant, to put God first again, to make a choice. And God says, through the life and ministry and example of Christ, "Therefore chose life, that you and your descendents might live."

AMEN